Polar Expressed: The True Life of the Conductor
by ParodyPenman
Summary: A violent and slightly raunchy parody of the Polar Express. In this story, it takes place a couple of years after the Polar Express movie, which would be around 1960. The conductor is sick of Christmas after Santa doesn’t bless him with his magical powers. There is a surprise crossover but it is mainly a parody.


It was an average December day in the offseason of Christmas for the Conductor of the Polar Express. One 5th of vodka, a dime bag of cocaine, all chased down with dangerous unprotected sex with his former stripper girlfriend Hazel. If there's one thing the conductor never tolerates, it's being late. So when Hazel informed him that she was late on her period, the Conductor went into a fit of rage. How could this happen? Santa was supposed to have his back. He believed in Santa afterall. Nothing mattered anymore for the Conductor. He poured himself another 5th of vodka and mixed it with delicious hot chocolate. He went into the basement and took another bump of coke, and then wielded his C4. Christmas would be different this year.

Surely enough, a couple of days later on Christmas eve, he began his voyage to the North Pole on the Polar Express again, and picked up all of the doubtful children. He then got the chefs to make all of the children scrumptious hot cocoa. The only twist was, the sneaky conductor laced the Hot Cocoa with roofies. As everyone passed out, the Conductor waited patiently as they arrived to the North Pole...

Once they arrived, the Conductor knew he had more work to do. His job was only partially completed. He tied up all of the sleeping children to their seats, and rigged up the C4 charges to each cabin on the train. As he exited the train, he knew that the North Pole had to be obliterated. He knew the elves couldn't escape the North Pole, they'd freeze to death if they left the protection of Santa's village. There were about 300 Elves, 8 Reindeer, Mrs Claus, and then the big guy himself: Santa Claus. The first step would be killing his reindeer; taking them out would take away Santa's only means of transportation, hence leaving Santa with no escape. The Conductor went to the stable where the Reindeer dined, and he put cyanide in their troughs, assuring they'd be poisoned.

After this matter was handled, and the Reindeer dropped dead, it was time to handle the elves. Each elf was currently in the cafeteria, eating their congratulatory meal for yet another successful year of gift making for Christmas.

In order to exterminate them, he would need two things and two things only. Locked doors, and one thousand 7.62mm rounds for his M60 Light Machine Gun.

With Santa taking a snooze before his big night, he didn't hear a single gunshot. The Conductor grinned with monstrosity as he opened fire in the cafeteria, and he massacred each and every last one of Santa's midget minions. Now, it was time for the main event. Kill Santa.

The Conductor whistled as he trotted to Santa's loft. Santa, still snoozing, had no idea of the Conductor's stealthy entrance into his corridors. The Conductor locked the door, and wielded a ginormous candy cane. He tapped Santa on his red nose. "Santa, wake your fucking fat ass up."

Santa woke up, and realized he was chained to the bed. Mrs Claus was too.

"You said you'd always protect me Santa. You failed me. You betrayed me. I don't want a fucking kid, you asshole."

"But Conductor, it was a blessing, a true Christmas miracle!" Said Santa.

"The only miracle of this Christmas is that it will be the last Christmas ever." Replied the Conductor menacingly.

The conductor pierced Mrs Claus right in her fanny hole with his massive candy cane. It took her 45 minutes to bleed out. Then, he strangled Santa Claus with the candy cane. Santa let out one last "HoHoHo" as his final breath escaped from his mouth.

Now, it was time to obliterate the North Pole, and the train. Mission almost complete.

The Conductor had a trick up his sleeve. When he found out his girlfriend was pregnant, he bombarded local elementary schools and threatened children's lives into making them write Santa letters asking for C4. The Conductor managed to rig up all of the codes to the C4 with one detonator, meaning that Santa's workshop was rigged with nearly 5 tons of explosives, all at his fingertips. The conductor got back on the train, and found his two crew mates balls deep in eachothers assholes. Outraged that they'd have sex without him, and seeing as he'd probably have to kill them anyways, he put two single 9mm rounds into their heads.

He hopped off the train, and called the Hobo Ghost. The Ghost arrived riding on his own ghostly ski's, and said "Alright Conductor. Click that detonator and hop on. Our mission is complete."

"One last thing Ghost" Replied the Conductor.

The Conductor took out his special Christmas watch, and the watch read "On Time."

He shed a single tear as he clutched the watch in one hand, the C4 detonator in another, and clicked the detonate button.

All of Santa's village and the majestic Polar Express blew up into smithereens. The Ghost had the Conductor hop on his skis, and they fled. No survivors, a perfect mission.

However, the Conductor forgot to calculate one key aspect. Rudolph.

Motherfucking Rudolph. Christmas was not foggy that night, so Rudolph was alone Reindeerbating in the lodge amidst all of the chaos. He had a chance to escape safely from the explosion, and knew the Conductor was behind it.

As the Conductor skied away with the Hobo Ghost, he took one final glance at the crumbling of Santa's village. He could have sworn he saw a glimmer of red light in the sky, but assured himself he was just seeing things...

The Conductor and the Hobo Ghost skied their way back to the Conductor's hometown of Dearborn, Michigan. As the Conductor hopped off board, the Ghost asked him a question.

"Conductor, what pushed you over the edge?"

"Ghost, my whore girlfriend is pregnant. I can't be a father. Santa told me he'd always have my back, and clearly he didn't." said the Conductor.

"Wait, your girlfriend is pregnant?" asked the Hobo Ghost with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Yes why?"

"Because Conductor, I can become a real human being again if I can enter the body of a blossoming infant. I've never had this opportunity. Can I take over your child's body?" asked the Ghost.

"Well of course you can by all means! Come on inside, Hazel is definitely asleep by now." said the Conductor excitedly.

As they enter the house, they saw Hazel passed out on the couch with a dildo still lodged inside of her puss.

"I told you she is a whore." said the conductor as he shook his head.

The Ghost began to morph into a smaller spirit, and ejected the dildo from Hazel's vag. He entered her holy opening, and traveled up to her uterus. There, a 1 month old fetus was resting comfortably in Hazel's womb. The Hobo Ghost sucked the soul out of it, and entered the body.

The Conductor, satisfied with how the night turned out, started blasting "If You Just Believe" on his record player as he downed another 5th of vodka and another bump of coke. He fell to the floor and passed out.

The Conductor woke up the next day. It was Christmas Day, yet there was a different feeling in the air. Thinking that the night of destruction was just a dream, the Conductor took a walk down his street. He noticed that not a single kid got a gift for Christmas, and many parents threw out their Christmas trees and decorations, furious that Santa didn't deliver to them this year. Little did they know, they'd never get a Christmas gift from Santa again.

8 months go by, and Hazel had a successful delivery of the Hobo Ghost baby. When she was asleep, the Conductor cradled the newborn baby.

"What the fuck? I have a Vagina? I'm a fucking girl?" yelled the Hobo Ghost.

"Oh my god, Ghost, you can still talk?!" asked the Conductor in thrilled disbelief.

"Yes. My body is young but my soul is over one hundred years old." Replied the Ghost Baby.

"Say Ghost, I think the next big enterprise we should eliminate should be the Easter Bunny. I really hate that little piece of shit…"

Before The Conductor could even finish his sentence, the alarms at the hospital began going off.

The Conductor hid under the bed with Ghost Baby, and could have sworn he heard the sound of hooves pounding the halls of the hospital.

As The Conductor processed this, he realized that the glimmer of red light he saw the previous Christmas Eve was indeed not just his imagination. Somehow, someway, that little fucker Rudolph survived his reign of terror.

Always strapped, the Conductor revealed his WW2 issue Colt .45. He walked out into the hallways, and heard the song "When Christmas Comes to Town" blasting over the intercom. As he turned a corner, he saw the majestic Reindeer Rudolph standing before him in the flesh.

"Well Rudolph, I should've known there is no such thing as a perfect mission." Said the Conductor.

Rudolph snuffed at him, and got down into an attack position, ready to exact his revenge.

Rudolph charged the Conductor full speed. The Conductor was ready, and fired all 7 of his .45 rounds from his Colt pistol at the charging beast. 2 of his shots connected, one hitting Rudolph in the antler, but the other hitting him right in his legendary red nose.

Rudolph let out a piercing cry of pain, but continued to charge. The Conductor had nowhere to run, and was out of ammo on his magazine. He started panicking and attempted to reload, but it was no use. Rudolph plunged his antlers right into the Conductor's midsection. As Rudolph withdrew his antlers from the Conductor's gut, his intestines spilled onto the floor.

The Conductor, left struggling to breathe on the floor, managed to muster a few last words.

"Rudolph, no matter what happens. You were never truly needed. You were only needed on certain Christmases. The rest of the time, you were an afterthought. A true bastard of a Reindeer."

Rudolph snorted and shed a few tears, realizing the true horror of what was the last year. He watched as the Conductor let out his final breath. He turned around, and began to walk away.

As Rudolph walked away, he heard the piercing sound of a gunshot. Rudolph felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, and then, he collapsed.

Rudolph looked up, and saw that the newborn Ghost Baby was wielding the Conductor's .45 pistol. The Ghost Baby stood over Rudolph and smiled.

"Rudolph, The Conductor may have not been able to finish the job. But that's because I'm the king of the North Pole." The Ghost Baby said, menacingly laughing.

He raised his .45, and plugged a single and final round into Rudolph's skull, killing him. He then walked into the room where Hazel slept, and blasted off the remaining 5 rounds of his Colt into her.

The Ghost Baby then crawled onto some miniature ski's, and began his voyage to the North Pole. As he told Hero Boy that one fateful night in the 50's, he is the king of the North Pole! To be continued….

The Ghost Baby was actually pretty sad about his friend the Conductor's death. He knew there was work to do to avenge his death. He always knew that the Conductor was annoyed as fuck by the Hero Boy and all of his pals from years prior. The Ghost figured that in order to do justice by the Conductor, he had to kill those children. First, he had to track down Billy, the poor sorry excuse for a human being who rode the train that fateful night years ago. Billy was now 11, and living in the same broken down shack.

The Ghost Baby waited until Christmas Eve to carry out his vengeful murder spree. It made it all more special knowing that it was on the Conductor's favorite day. The Ghost Baby went to Billy's broken down home, and revealed his Sharpened Ski Pole, which was now essentially a spear. He broke into the home via chimney. He crept into each bedroom, where he found Billy's parents passed out amidst 12 empty beer bottles and a used condom. He speared both of them in the necks, and then slithered into Billy's room.

He knew the best way to kill Billy would be using a fake present. So, he took out his flask, and emptied gasoline into it. He wrapped it up and woke Billy up. "So kid, how about a nice present?"

Billy, so happy replied "Well tiny baby, it isn't Christmas Day yet!"

The Ghost Baby assured him "This will be our secret! Open it!"

Billy opened it and was so happy he actually got a gift on Christmas. He revealed the flask. The Ghost Baby encouraged him and said "Come on Kid, nothing like a nice hot cup of Joe!"

Billy chugged it back, and immediately began salivating from the mouth rapidly. Vomit followed, and Billy went under a violent seizure. As he stopped shaking, his body laid limp. He died.

The Baby Ghost, happy with his work, then moved on to the black girl. He arrived at her house, it was just her, her mother, and her 6 siblings. The Father of course was nowhere to be found.

Ghost Baby entered the home. He figured that 8 of them would be too many for a stealth approach. He went into the basement, where he found the home's heat source. He took a long wire and attached it to some dynamite and rigged it up to the heat source. Nothing like a fire on a cold, stormy Christmas Eve. He ignited the wire, and then sneaked out of the house. One minute later, the entire house blew up into smithereens.

However, much to Ghost Baby's surprise, the Black Girl crawled out of the house. Severely burned, the snow felt amazing on her skin. She looked at the Ghost Baby, but couldn't muster any words. Ghost Baby revealed his good ole classic sized 15 shoe, and beat her mercilessly to death with it.

Now it was time for the final objective. Kill Hero Boy himself.

He got to Hero Boy's house. He saw that once again they built a pathetic snowman. Ghost Baby destroyed the Snowman and took a raging piss on it. Then, he proceeded to the house.

Hero Boy's bitch little sister was already nosing around the main level of the house, awaiting Santa. "HoHoHo" said the Ghost Baby.

"Santa, is that you?" Asked Hero Boy's Sister.

"Yes it is. I'm the big guy himself. I'm the king of the North Pole. Come, sit on my lap." Said Ghost Baby.

Hero Boy's Sister obliged, and then Ghost Baby, using his god like strength, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her towards the fireplace. The fire was scorching a blissful arora of orange, perfect for burning. Ghost Baby tossed her into the fire. She squealed for 3 minutes straight. Ghost Baby closed the vent so that smoke would fill the house. Hero Boy's Sister perished.

Ghost Baby scooted outside, knowing the parents and Hero Boy would follow due to all of the smoke filling the house. Ghost Baby positioned his spear right outside the front door, ensuring all who ran out would impale themselves upon the spear.

Surely enough, the idiotic Dad wearing his Santa Hat impaled himself on it. Right behind him was his wife, who did the same. The Ghost Baby tossed the human kabob aside, and began hunting for Hero Boy. Unbeknownst to him, Hero Boy saw the monstrosities that were inflicted upon his parents, so he ran out the back door.

Ghost Baby chased him. They ran all the way up the road to Herpolsheimer's toy store. There, Hero Boy ran into the closet. Little did he know that this closet was the same exact layout as the cabin of forgotten toys on the polar express. Ghost Baby propped himself up over the room, and took control of the toys. The toys, all wielding small pocket knives, began slashing Hero Boy apart. "YOU'RE A DOUBTER!!!" Shouted Ghost Baby to Hero Boy.

Hero Boy crawled out of the store a bloody mess. Ghost Baby stood above him, and said "Believe. I am the King of the North Pole."

Hero Boy pulled out his bell that he got off of Santa's slay years prior, and clutched it in his hand as the Ghost Baby's spear entered his asshole and came out of the dome of his head, splitting him in half.

The mission was complete, Ghost Baby established himself as the King of the North Pole. As Ghost Baby began to crawl away, he heard a voice shout from behind saying "LET'S GET JACKED UP!"

You wouldn't believe it. It was Vince Fucking Vaughn, AKA, FRED FUCKING CLAUS. He was in Chicago the Christmas Eve where the North Pole was obliterated, too busy avoiding and hating his entire family.

Using his repo truck, he ran over the Ghost Baby, crushing him immediately. Fred got off of the sled, looked at the shriveled corpse of the Ghost Baby, and said, "Merry Christmas." He then walked off into the foggy snow, never to be seen again.


End file.
